The Digital Revolution
As soon as our heads popped over the dunes we were greeted by the brisk onshore. We did our usual scan of the beach – let’s go left today. Yesterday we went towards the hills and found very little treasure, only a couple of unusually coloured shells. We headed along the harder wet sand towards…
Renewal
There are no gulls at the beach today Cold nights now swell too long Absent rays harness little song While the low hung clouds loom grey There are no gulls at the beach today Nests relocated upon finer sands To feast fortune in faraway lands As even the shellfish have floated away There are no…
A Doggone Lesson
“And always remember to shut this gate before you leave,” Aunty repeated. Max nodded as he grabbed his 10-speed and zoomed off into the salted air, which had been invisibly eating everything but the seat. He was chuffed to have been asked to care for Aunty’s prized dogs. He had never been given a responsible job like…
Modern Connections to a Timeless Past
Review Essay on Witi Ihimaera’s the Whale Rider (Reed Publishing, 2002) I had seen the acclaimed 2002 New Zealand movie where a young Keisha Castle-Hughes gained stardom with her portrayal of protagonist Pai (Kahu in the book). With film adaptions, often the author’s nuances are absent so I relished the opportunity to immerse in Witi…
The Witch’s Cottage
I’m bored, bored, bored. Once again, Mrs Wright has given me shitloads of homework to do, so selfish. No way I should touch a school book in my own time. Anyhow, I’ve become allergic to homework; I break out in a nasty rash. Actually, what I do is I sneak outside with my shirt off…
Water, Water Everywhere, Our Land is on the Brink
I love to swim with the kids. See them come alive as they drift away from their devices. Watch them discover how to really play again. Splashes, shouts, screams, and wide brimmed smiles. Me, I’m quite the heavy sinker nowadays. Only seeing my once buoyant self in their ripples. Each time we go there’s usually…
Drifting Past Fifty
I watch the gulls shimmy above the shallows, full of sunrise song in a symphony with the ocean orchestra, recalling summer days burnt, my sandprints just pipis, maybe a few grains more, it was squawks of scavengers swerving missiles of my wrist spun dosinias. Now at the bay it is balding, bare islands wrinkled sprinkled…
Flight of the Kotuku
Day 0 Noah chucked his bag down and flopped onto the bed. He pulled out his new smartphone from his blazer – the cracks reflected his contorted face. Last time it had been nicked, this time it was biffed to the ground. The raft of messages shouted at him. He didn’t want to open any.…
Chocolate Sunlotion
I was reading recently about petrol theft in Christchurch where thieves fitted a very large tank into their boot, put the pump nozzle through the rear window, filled up and made off with a grand’s worth of gas. This inventive and brazen heist started my brain whirring. Five young lads gather at the pocket-sized shopping…
Elergy – Dear Johns
1933-2008 1963-2020 You’ve left home father and brother, earlier than expected with nothing to pack. I grab my faded cap, a companion for lost thoughts, dew brushes limbs down the overgrown track. You’re like two soft sanded soles, that dance down drifted dunes, breezing into view your lean abled faces, my ocean surges filling empty…
The Last Run
I remember die Frau in traditional Dirndl dress drifting backwards and forwards with trays of schnapps. The lines of firewater being chugged whole, followed by intense grimaces, then empty glasses thumped upon the old wooden table. Das Bayernhaus was perched high on the forested ski slopes of Garmisch in southern Germany. From this possie, there…
Sweet Jane
Sitting shiny on the wooden shelves at home, are loads of plastic tubs. Inside they are full of sounds, rock music Dad calls it. There is even Heavy Metal. These bands have long hair like me but greasy. They sing like a cat being run over and the doors dance when these ones are on.…
The Shore Sound
The Shore Sound Part I A faint sound chimes sporadically through the pine plantation edging the dunes. The melody is hard to decipher through the creaking weatherboards, getting a sanding from the easterly. The noise suddenly stops, hopes heighten in our young hearts. Reassuringly, it starts again, the notes now more distinguishable. My older brother…
go pūkeko 